Not Alone
by SheWroteTheWords
Summary: An idea given by my friend Tami. Written in 2012, uploading to Fanfic for safe keeping. Jim's therapist recommends he write to a soldier
1. Chapter 1

Dear Sebastian Moran,

Firstly your name is stupid and annoying, I'm going to call you Sebby. And you can just deal with it. Or just not answer and I'll find another stupid soldier person to write to. I don't even want to be writing this letter. But my psychiatrist seems to think I need someone to talk to. The idiot thought it would be a good idea for me to write to a soldier because we are both in place we probably aren't comfortable with and that we're uncomfortable and alone in. In my case my own head, in your case wherever the fuck you are fucking that stupid ass war. Anyway, she's an idiot, and she's totally wrong. I don't need to write to anyone, I don't need to do anything. But I thought I'd see what it was like. Plus I'm kinda curious about soldiers. I mean what the hell makes you go out there to somewhere where you could be killed at any moment? Do you do it in order to feel alive? To feel like you're doing something to help others (if you're an angel like that don't bother writing back, I want someone interesting)? I mean why? It's mental if you ask me.

Anyway, I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is James Moriarty, you will call my Jim or Mr Moriarty. Call me James and I will make the war seem friendly with what I will do to you, clear? Good, I'm glad. I'm Irish not that that is important. I left Ireland young, but as everyone loves to point out, I never truly lost the accent. And quite right too. I am not British, I don't want to sound it. And I am the most dangerous man in London. Brilliant title don't you think, I think it's brilliant. What does that mean? Well, Sebby, stick around, maybe you'll find out.

M. - Jim,

I have to admit I was surprised to get your letter. I never get post and in all honesty I think all of my squad were shocked as well. I do not appreciate the comments asking if I had a secret girlfriend that suddenly remembered she cared. Yeah, I'm surrounded by idiots and let me tell you now, I am not here out of any sense of duty. It's not for Queen and Country or any of that crap. I don't see myself as a patriot, I don't see this as something I ought to be do to make the work a better place. No, I am not an angel. Do I have the right to keep writing? Well tough shit if you think not because I'm going to. You wanted to know why I came here, well your first guess was closest to the truth. In all honesty, the only thing I've ever felt like I was any good at was hurting people. People told me that was crap and that I was a good person at heart, but I don't believe that shit for a moment. I enjoyed it. I have a good shot, a very good shot. I'm trained as a sniper but that doesn't come into this much. I'm a colonel here. I'm in charge of a group and god knows I hate that, but that's not important. The reason I came here was as a challenge to myself. I saw – I still see – myself as someone who's at their best when hurting others, and where would be a better place to hurt someone than at what can only be described as hell on earth. So yeah, I wanted to see that I could do something, something that would stand for something. That something didn't have to be good, in fact I thought it would be better if it wasn't good. And I wanted to feel like I was doing something. I spent so much time just sitting in London, bored. I was doing nothing and going nothing. I needed to get out.

In all honestly now I'm here I'm not sure what's worse. The still boringness of London or the hell that is Afghanistan. I hated London, I hated it because nothing happened. The problem is now, I hate it here, because too much happens. I'll be perfectly honest with you, Jim, I'm a coward. I don't feel like this is the place for me, I don't feel like the action is anything good. I hate it. I want to run away and hide from it all. I feel like a stupid little boy here. It's ridiculous. I'm here and I'm in charge of this large group of men, and I have to give them pep talks and I have to prepare them for what they're going to face out there in the battles. But how can I prepare them for it, I still don't feel used to it and I've been working my way up. They look up to me because I'm in a position above them, they have questions, questions that I'm supposed to have answers to but I don't. I don't have any answers. I'm a joke.

Anyway, enough about that, I'm sure you don't want to hear it, you probably didn't even expect an answer. In all honesty, the only reason I am answering is because I have no one back home and this makes me feel for once that I'm not completely isolated, that there is something even though there isn't really. It's a good way to pretend for a while. I understand if you don't write about but I would love it if you did.

Also, I want to know about London. Can you tell me about London? What's going on there at the moment? When you say you're the most dangerous man in London, what do you mean by that exactly? What do you do? Tell me about the city, the drama, the… I don't even really know what I mean, just tell me anything, please.

Thank you in advance.

Sebastian Moran.

Ps. call me what the hell you like.

—-

Sebbyyy,

You wrote back! You actually wrote back. God, I wasn't expecting that, you were right. I thought you'd think I was crazy – which for your information, I am – and would want to like run a mile. Not that you can really run a mile from me since we aren't actually in the same place, but whatever, you know what I mean. Tell anyone this and I'll have you killed, but I'm glad you wrote back.

I'll be perfectly honest with you here. Clearly you're not a coward. I mean you're in Afghanistan just to prove a point to yourself and everyone else. I have admiration for that. That is of course the best reason to do anything, to stick two fingers up to the rest of the world, I completely approve. It sounds to me like you need to learn to swallow down your fear, if you're a colonel, then clearly you have what it takes to be there. They don't just put people in that position for the sake of it, you got that. You just need to learn to make yourself heard, make yourself known. Forget that you're unsure and make it sound like you're not. They're looking up to you, they need you to answer and be clear and certain, even if you are. Sometimes you may need to lie to them but if you do that's ok, I don't mean lie to protect them, but lie to make yourself sound more sure than you are. Don't play the war down, that's the worst thing you could do, I think. But just make yourself heard.

I understand where you're coming from. I do. I often want to run away, I want to hide and tell everyone else to piss off, that I can't do this anymore. But I don't. I can't. If I did the entire empire I have built would collapse and I can't let that happen. Sometimes I just want it to because I can't deal with it, but what would I be left with if I didn't have it? Nothing is the answer. I would be stuck in London with no distraction and just my thoughts. I couldn't deal with that. That would be worse than dealing with it. Just think like that, the consequences of not dealing could be worse than actually dealing with it would be.

Regarding your question about London: It is the same as always, but I guess that isn't what you want to hear. I suppose you want to be reminded of what 'same as always' means. You want to for a moment feel like you're back here. Yes, well, I'm not sure how much I can help you with that. But as I said to you regarding your men, I'm not going to lie to you. London is boring, it's tedious and annoying. Sometimes I feel as though there's no colour in London, like it's all grey. Grey buildings, grey clouds, grey expressions. Have you ever noticed that no one ever really looks happy in London. They're not living the big city dream, they're feeling lost and crushed, they're just a number, amongst so many other people. There's little originality, there's little meaning to what they're doing. They're barely living, they're just surviving. It's just busy streets, busy tubes, even the river is busy. It's boring, did I mention that? Yes, boring and tedious. Maybe you need that again, Sebby, maybe you need to get lost, to become just a number. Maybe that's what I need, but I can't be. And I guess because you're there, neither can you.

And me. Oh I'm just the world's only Consulting Criminal. There's only one of me in the world. Take from that what you will.

Jim.

—

Jimmy,

You only said that calling you James would get me a bad reaction, therefore I'm going to call you Jimmy. I think that's only fair since you're calling me Sebby. Thank you for replying again. I thought you would get annoyed and just not bother again. I'm glad you approve of my actions. I'm sorry if my writing's a bit sloppy at the moment, I'm in a bit of a rush, the post will be going soon and if I miss it it'll be a fortnight before I can sent this. Also there's a lot going on here at the moment. My troops have to prepare to go out so I can't say much.

London sounds terribly lovely. I think you're write, I think I do need to just become a number, just a person in the crowd again. London's boring mundaneness seems so lovely compared to this. Still I don't want to settle into civilian life again. It's like I need something in between. Not the war, not London life, but something that has the best of both.

Consulting Criminal. Did you say that just to be cryptic or is it your actually title? I don't know, I guess, you help up criminal or something. You're like head criminal. God knows what that means.

Gotta run,

Sebby.  
Ps. I added a photo, in case you were curious, can I have one of you?

—  
Tiger,

Since you seem to have accepted and even chose to use the name Sebby, I realised you need a new nickname. And it suits, anyway, because you're all gorgeous and elegant and deadly, like a tiger. Anyway, I've added a picture as well since you so nicely asked for one. I think it captures my beauty and my deep brown eyes, and the serious-yet-playfulness of my nature, do you not think? By the way, the sort of thing you probably want to know, I'm gay. It's the sort of thing that's pretty obvious if you're around me but I'm not sure how much it comes across in my writing. Felt you probably ought to know. If that's a problem, let me know and I won't bother writing anymore.

Terribly lovely. What a perfectly oxymoronic way to describe London. Yes, I do think that is perfect. Terrible and yet lovely. I think you're right, tiger, you do need something in between. Good luck finding it though. How long have you been stuck in that stupid war anyway?

Jim.

—

Jim,

All right, if you're calling me Tiger, I'm going to call you Kitten. Because let's face it, that picture and the way you talk shows how much of a kitten you are. Cute, adorable, a little vulnerable, but with scratch. You think you being gay will be a problem with me? I guess this shows that we're only communicating through letters. I am as well. And you're very cute.

Things are getting really hectic here. More so than usual. This is the first time in well over a week where I've had time to do something and not had to use it to sleep. It's mental. I'm exhausted, considering doing something stupid just to get out of here. I've been here years, on and off of course, I've had leave, I've just not really had anything to do with it. I'm 37 and I've been doing this since I was 20. It's steadily got worse and worse, but I've have no reason to leave because London is worse I think. Now I'm not so sure.

Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with how crap I'm feeling out here. Can you tell me more about yourself?

Seb

—-

Sebby,

Kitten?! KITTEN?! I am not cute and vulnerable. I am gorgeous and terrifying and don't you be saying otherwise, idiot.

Hmm, you want to know about me… Well, I'm 35 and I've been building this business since I ran away from home at 16. There's nothing else you really need to know about me. I'm Irish, in Britain. There's nothing much to tell. I'm charismatic and charming. Oh and I have the perfect job for you when you get back. If you ever get back to London. But yes, you should work for me.

Write back soon, I'm awfully bored

Jim.

—-

Sebastian,

It's been two months. It's not that I'm worried or anything, I just wondered why you haven't answered. I thought maybe you missed the post but then more and more time started passing and it's been two months like I said. You haven't gone and got yourself blown up or anything have you? I've been checking the news and I haven't heard your name mentioned but that doesn't necessarily mean something. Please write back tiger.

Jim.

—-

Jimmy,

I did something stupid. But I'm on my way back. You don't need to write anymore. I land into Heathrow on Wednesday at just after midday. Go back to terrorising London now. Thanks for keeping me sane. It meant a lot.

Goodbye,

Sebby.

Chapter Text


	2. Chapter 2

or Sebastian the plane ride back to London was terrible. He knew he was in disgrace, a dishonourable discharge was about as bad as it got. He knew he was a coward, and he knew he should feel guilty, but in all honesty he didn't. He felt nothing for what he had done, nothing for the person he had killed unnecessarily. He couldn't help but think that it's a war and he was likely to get killed anyway. He just made it sooner eather than later. He was lost in thought though, the war zone got further and further away and London got closer and closer. He wasn't sure this was good and he wasn't sure it was bad. In all honesty he wasn't sure what he thought. He couldn't cope with the war, he was scared, traumatised even, but even to his own mind that sounded too over-dramatic, too fake. Still, the army thought he was traumatised. They spoke about PTSD, but surely you had to be away from it for it to be post. They spoke about how the war got to people, how he would need to talk to someone when he got back to Lodon. He was dreading that, but he had agreed to it because it kept him out of jail and that was definitely for the best.

It was London life that worried him though. It was going to be what Londoners saw as hectic, the type of thing that always bored him. He wasn't sure that would be better than the war. It would just be the opposite extreme. He needed something, he wanted to feel he was achieving something. He knew he needed a job but he wasn't sure where he'd get one either. He couldn't do anything like an office or retail, he wouldn't cope with the level of boredoms, and there was the added problem of who would take someone with a dishonourable discharge from the army. It wasn't like he could really hide it after all. He wanted to stop thinking, he wanted to be glad that he was away from the war, that he was free from that at least. he wanted to be happy about seeing London again. He wanted to get some sleep on this plane before trying to adjust himself to London timing again. He wanted to get some proper rest without the fear of waking to bombs falling and his men dying. Sleep was definitely needed but his mind was too active, it refused to calm down, it refused to let him get any.

And the plane journey seemed to drag on, it was so long. When the dip finally came, the announcement on Britain, Sebastian was more than relieved. Not because of London or even because he was away from the war, but simply so he would be able to get off the plane. He wanted to be able to move more than just up and down the aisle. He wanted the freedom or moving wherever he wanted. But it was then that more fear hit him. Where was he going to stay, what was he going to do? He had a fair bit of money from the army. The majority of people sent their money home, but he had no one to send it to so it was just sitting in a bank account waiting for him, which was at least something. But he had no idea where he would stay. The idea of a hotel or travel lodge seemed empty and lonely to him, he knew wherever he was would be empty and lonely, but a hotel would rehighlight the fact that he didn't really belong here. That he didn't really belong anywhere. Still, he knew he had choice.

When the plane finally landed, Sebastian got off the second he did. He worked through customs in a daze, nodding along quietly, saying what was necessary just to get through. He found his luggage pretty quickly and then just stopped. A number of people had someone waiting for them, they were happy to have them back. Sebastian had no one, no one would had missed him, no one who would be glad to see him. He knew he should be used to it, he hadn't ever had that someone, but it still hurt. It still reiterated how alone he was. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, taking a deep breath. He was still in his uniform and it seemed to stick out like a sore thumb here, it highlight how different he was, how out of place.

"Sebastian Moran?"

He froze. His name. A slightly Irish tone. He turned, a shocked expression on his face and his belief was confirmed. Jim Moriarty. The guy who had wrote to him was there, was there for him. Sebastian was confused, he had said not to worry anymore, he had thought it was just letters than didn't mean anything. But here he was. He was small, very small.

"You're a lot smaller in the flesh," Sebastian commented. He mentally cursed himself as Jim pouted at him. That was such a stupid way to stay the conversation, such a stupid thing to say. "Sorry," he muttered. "Hello," he knew he shouldn't ask, but he really couldn't help himself. "What are you doing here?"

"Meeting you off the plane, idiot," Jim rolled his eyes. "That's what friends do isn't it?"

Sebastian couldn't help but small. Before he was even aware of what he was dong, he wrapped his arms around Jim, holding him tightly. "I'm so glad you're here," he said. He had been certain that writing to him hadn't meant anything to Jim like it had to him. He let go of Jim after a moment and just looked at him. "You're even more gorgeous in real life," he added.

Jim laughed slightly. "It didn't seem right that you didn't have anyone here waiting for you," he told him. "And it's a good thing I did come, you look so lost and confused. Poor tiger."

Sebastian smiled. "London's… strange…" was all he said. He didn't know how else to explain how he was feeling.

"Well that's one word for it," Jim replied with a smirk. "Did you get my last letters?" he asked. "The ones before you said you got discharged?" After Sebastian shook his head, Jim continued, "All right, well I have the perfect job for you."

Sebastian looked at him suspiciously but also hopefully. For some crazy reason he trusted this little man who he knew so little about. It was probably because he had made an effort, and he was the only person he had. "And what is it?" he asked.

"I need a bodyguard," Jim replied, simply, before going on to explain. "My job's dangerous. I'm working with really dangerous people and as you pointed out I'm rather small. I'm also rather weak physically and not very good at fighting. I need someone who's tough and strong to be able to protect me when things get nasty. Basically it would be your job to keep me safe."

Sebastian smiled, this seemed like the perfect job as Jim had said. It was exciting, fast-paced, it wasn't boring London life, but it wasn't the hell of war. It was horror and the wrong side of the law. It truly was the best of both. Sebastian nodded, "When do I start?" he asked.

"As soon as you've recovered," Jim told him simply. "I also need a sniper," Sebastian's smile only grew. "So you'll double over as both. I'm sure you won't have a problem with that. Sometimes the jobs'll overlap, but mostly they'll probably be separate. Of course I can't say that for definite, I've never had a bodyguard come sniper before."

"You're just employing me, you're not even bothering to find out anything about me, or even see what my skills are like or anything," Sebastian was somewhat bewildered by the way Jim was acting. He was struggling to believe it. For some reason he was expecting it to be a joke. He was torn between his trust for this person and his lack of belief in humanity as a whole. He thought Jim was going to build him up just to crush him back down. Of course if the idiot did turn out to be a fake, Sebastian could quite easily get him back.

Jim laughed slightly, "You're an ex-soldier, you're exactly what I need. And better than that, you got yourself kicked out of the army. I mean that's pretty bad-ass from where I'm standing," his expression and tone became more serious. "But honestly, I know that you lasted in the army for as long as you did, even if you don't feel that you coped well, you lasted and you built yourself up, that says a lot to me about your ability. I don't need to see it. But I will see it, once you start work."

Sebastian nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to pull him into another hug, thank him a hundred times, but he knew that probably wasn't ideal. Luckily Jim continued quite quickly. "Now, I want you to take a week or so to get used to London again, get some rest, get back… you know, here. Get used to not being in the war. I want you to start in a fortnight probably, but a bit before so that I can see what you do. Not as a test simply because I'm curious. Clear?" Sebastian nodded. "Good," Jim smiled. "Now, do you have anywhere to stay at the moment?"

Sebastian shook his head, "I'm heading to find a hotel or something now."

"Don't bother," Jim said. "My place is huge. Sometimes I think it's too big, there's too many empty room, too much space between me and everything else. You're coming to live with me." Sebastian's eyes widened. "I don't think you need to worry about me leading you in to kill you or anything," he rolle dhis eyes, "You're the sniper from the army after all, if anyone should be worried it's me."

"I'm not worried," Sebastian said. "I'm just… I don't understand why you're doing this."

Jim sighed quietly, "I'm doing this, Sebastian, because I don't like the way I'm alone, and when I wrote to you, you actual bothered. I was able to be honest with you and you didn't laugh or not bother with me, you were honest back. I admire you for what you did in the arm, sticking at it for so long even though you felt you couldn't cope. You did cope, because that's what coping it. I'm grateful for you for being there for me even though I was just a nobody on the other side of the world. And now you need someone and somewhere, I need someone and company. It's just ideal."

Sebastian nodded again. The way Jim spoke about him, it was exactly how Sebastian felt about Jim. But Jim was going above and behind. He hoped he would be helpful and of use to Jim though as Jim seemed to think he would. He didn't want to seem like he was using the others goodwill. It seemed almost ironic that this man called himself the most dangerous man in London and was the worlds only consulting criminal but Sebastian had no choice but to look at him as a saviour.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"I have a car outside, I'll show you," Jim said. "Practically no one knows. I keep my work very separate from home because of how dangerous it is. I'm rarely home though, I only got the place because I could afford it. I was young and stupid and had money so spent it. I stayed there because it was too mich effort to move. It's in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of London. I like it because it's peaceful, it's away from people. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a huge fan of people."

Sebastian nodded. That he could understand. That he agreed with. He loved the idea of being away from people for the most part. He loved the idea of having a job that meant protecting the only person he gave a damn about, he loved everything about what Jim was suggesting. He let the other lead him out of the airport to the car park.

Once in the car - Sebastian knew he shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that Jim had a personal driver, but he was - Jim continued explaining about the job, telling him more about what he did. He warned him as well, that the things he had written in those letters were deeply personal and private and if Sebastian dared to repeat them he would destroy him, and of course deny every word. Sebastian only smiled and promised not to mention it, because why would he? He had no reason to hurt Jim, he didn't want to hurt him, he wanted the job to protect him. He nodded and spoke when necessary as Jim talked at him, but in all honesty he wasn't listening properly, he was just liking the sound of Jim's voice. He was thinking that, maybe, for once, living in London could be okay.


End file.
